Burn
by larkgrace
Summary: The slightly more mature version of "Sweet Surrender". Cute Zarter one shots. Three: Kinda like Romeo and Juliet, if Juliet had a temper problem and a dictionary's worth of French swear words on hand.
1. Animal

**Decided to start a new series of Zarter one-shots, for the ones that might be a bit mature for "Sweet Surrender". I'm still keeping up with SS, though, so don't worry. These won't be all that bad, though. Promise.**

**Anyway, moving on. I don't own the Kane Chronicles or "Animal" by Neon Trees.**

O-o-O

"…_and I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you…"_

[There is an animal inside all of us, hidden in deepest recesses of our true selves.]

She was a lioness; curled, snarling, waiting to spring. For the longest time she had circled him, her amber eyes wary, never coming too close. _[Never coming close enough.] _Dangerous, never to him, only those who threatened him. _[Protecting her prize.] _For the longest time it had remained like this, with him trapped in her gaze, fascinated by her every movement, her long, lean muscles flexing under her smooth skin, even as everyone around him—even his own subconscious—told him to run while he could. _[Take flight, you fool, while you still can!] _She stalked, hesitating, observing.

And then she pounced.

He was a falcon; flying, soaring, detached from everything. He was watchful, too, always observing. _[Always waiting for something—or someone—to catch his eye.] _Quick to spot; quicker to dive in and take the offerings, when they presented themselves. _[Quick to take her, show her what it meant to love.] _She sprang, shredding his wings and bringing him to earth, but he didn't mind being grounded by her.

Not when it meant having her so close.

*#*#*

"You're not going to win," she said evenly, spinning and sending a jet of fire from her staff.

"Am I?" he replied, sounding just as blasé as he deflected the flame with his sword. It flew back at her, but she dissipated it with a wave of her hand.

"Of course not. I know something you don't."

"What is that?"

She hooked his ankle with the butt of her staff and sent him tumbling to the floor. "I know how to cheat," she said with a mischievous grin.

He pulled her to the floor, saying, "Nice kitty." She pretended to growl at him.

"You still haven't won," he said after a moment, winding an arm around her waist.

"Haven't I?"

He flipped, pinning her body beneath his, one hand pinning her hands above her head and the other resting on her hip. "Fight's not over," he reminded her.

She gave a low laugh, twisting one of her hands free and pulling him down to meet her kiss.

O-o-O

**Is it hot in here? Oh, no, how silly. It's just the Zarter.**

**So? Did you think it was good? Bad? Horribly inappropriate? Well, probably not the last one, unless you have a severely perverted mind. In any case, you can leave a review. And I'm open to suggestions for new stories ;)**

**Peace, love, and Potter Puppet Pals.**


	2. Love Not War

**Whoa, people. I think your minds ran a little wild at the end of that chapter ;) But, hey, it's T for a reason.**

**Without further ado, the second chapter of Burn!...and no, I don't own the Kane Chronicles.**

O-o-O

There weren't many things that Zia was afraid of. Insects, darkness, and the Serpent were a few of them. Unfortunately, it seemed that for the next few days, she would be seeing quite a lot of all three.

Not that it made her snippy or anything.

"My lap is not a pillow, Kane," she snapped as Carter reclined in the dying grass, resting his head on her legs.

"You like it," he croaked halfheartedly, closing his eyes and turning his face toward the heat of the fire.

She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. He looked as though he was about ten seconds away from falling asleep. She kept telling him that he shouldn't be working so much magic; it was wearing him down, bit by bit—even all-powerful pharaohs had their limits. But, as he kept reminding her, what other choice did they have? Ever since the enemy had cut off their supply lines, they were struggling to break through, regain contact with the normal world. They desperately needed contact now more than ever before; food was in short supply. Zia couldn't remember the last time she ate something that didn't come from a can. Not that anyone else knew about the shortages—yet—as Carter was making sure that the other residents of their little camp were eating well, even at the expense of the royal family. _Especially _at his own expense. Zia wasn't sure whether that made her want to hug him or slap him. Hug him because, gods, he was so selfless and she _loved_ him for it. Slap him because she couldn't stand seeing him like this.

He sighed and blindly felt across the ground for her hand, taking it and running his thumb across the back of her hand. "I'm not ready for this," he moaned, laying his other arm across his eyes.

"None of us are," she reminded him, pulling his hand away from his face.

"I'm not ready to lose you."

She yanked her hand out of his. "Carter Kane, you're talking nonsense. What makes you think you're going to lose me?"

He sat up and buried his face in his hands. "What makes me think I won't? I'm already losing everything. Amos is dead. No one has heard from Sadie in weeks. People are _dead_ because of me. People are _still_ going to die because of me," he spat.

"Carter. Every single person here knows full well that choosing to fight might mean that they don't go home," she said. "None of this is your fault. And you _won't _lose me."

"How can you be so sure?"

She forced him to look her in the eye, raising her left hand in front of him. "I promised that I would never leave you. _Never."_ Her wedding band glimmered dully in the firelight.

He caught her hand and pressed it against his cheek. She leaned in and kissed him, and for the moment she didn't care who was watching or where their next meal was going to come from or how they were going to survive the next few weeks, because when she opened her eyes Carter was smiling for the first time in days. And that smile was worth every morning spent fighting demons on an empty stomach, almost enough to make up for the empty spaces around their fire where there should have been people, who were either dead or missing.

"What do we do?" he asked.

She shrugged and blurted the first quote that came to mind. "Make love, not war."

He seemed to take that as a suggestion, pulling her to her feet and grabbing her hand as he ducked into the nearest tent.

O-o-O

**And I'll let your perverted minds run free from there.**

**And for those of you who wondered, no, Sadie isn't dead. She's going to ride in at the last possible second with a rescue party XD**


	3. Whipped

**Oh, yes, hello. Remember me? I'm not dead. I was just busy with school and getting grounded and going to Florida and church camp and a young writer's workshop. We had a character development class and created a one-armed, blue-haired penguin farmer named Chuck. I think Felix would like him.**

**Anyway…no, Uncle Rick, I'm not **_**stealing **_**your characters. I'm only borrowing them. I'll put them back in the box when I'm done playing. Promise.**

O-o-O

If there was one thing Walt respected about Carter, it was that little shit could fight his way out of just about anything. Which was why he was standing in complete shock with no _clue _as to how he could possibly be seeing his mentor, dead on the ground after a _lightning strike._

It wasn't like Carter hadn't been hit with worse things than lightning. He'd been in the presence of the Lord of Chaos and been just fine. He'd cast impossible spells and defeated unbeatable gods.

Granted, a lightning strike straight to the heart was taxing, but even regular mortals had survived those. So what the _fuck _did Carter think he was doing, dying like that?

Sadie gave a horrible, strangled moan, dropping her knees and pressing her ear to her brother's chest, right over the spot where his heartbeat should have been. Walt crouched down, rubbing her back and praying to whichever gods would listen to please, please do something.

Nothing happened, except for a damp patch appearing on Carter's shirt from Sadie crying. His eyes didn't move from their blank stare into the sky. His lips stayed pale and bloodless. Walt reached out to brush a strand of hair out of Sadie's face and accidentally bumped Carter's unmoving chest. His skin was still warm.

He heard shouts from the crowd, and Zia pushed her way through. She looked awful. She was limping, her ankle twisted, and there was blood running into her eyes from a gash on her forehead. Zia wasn't crying. Zia was pissed. _"C'est des connenes!"_ she snapped, which was when Walt knew to stay out of her way. She didn't swear much, and never in English—she'd had too many years of yelling at Desjardins for that.

Zia pushed Sadie back as she crouched over Carter, cupping his chin like she was going to try mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, which was not at all what she did. Instead, she yelled, "CARTER KANE, YOU WAKE UP _RIGHT NOW!"_ and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

Walt had learned to expect the unexpected when dealing with those two, but he was still floored when Carter yelped and opened his eyes, gasping for air as color returned to his face. Sadie almost fainted in Walt's arms. Zia muttered, "That's what I thought," then proceeded to sit back on her heels, bury her face in her hands, and cry.

"Wh-what?" Carter stammered. "Was I just—" he looked down at the damp patch Sadie's crying had left on his chest. "Who snotted all over my shirt?" Then he pointed at Zia, saying, "And you—did you—" Finally, seemingly unable to form a coherent thought, he pressed his hand to his cheek and muttered, "Ow."

Sadie wiped the tears from her cheeks and tackle-hugged him, muttering, "You are _so _whipped."

"Am not," he protested, squeezing her back.

Seemingly reassured that her brother was really alive, Sadie detached herself from him so that he could sit up.

Carter reached out to pull one of Zia's hands away from her face, murmuring, "Hey, I'm fine." He frowned and said, "You're bleeding."

"_T'es vraiment trop con,"_ she sniffed.

"That's just rude," he said, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her.

She buried her face in his neck and muttered, _"Jem'en fous."_

Whatever she'd said, Carter seemed to find it funny.

As it turned out, Zia's ankle prevented her from walking far enough to get to a portal, so Julian tried helping her limp along but ended up carrying her, since he was several inches taller than her. Carter was in only marginally better shape, being recently dead and all. Still, at least they both managed to make it through the portal and stagger to a couch before they passed out.

Jaz fixed Zia's ankle and got her head to stop bleeding, and eventually decided there wasn't anything to do for Carter except let him sleep.

Walt stayed downstairs for most of the night, partially because Jaz had asked him to keep an eye on Carter and Zia in case they woke up, partially because he really didn't feel like dragging himself upstairs to lie awake in his bed when he was already fairly comfortable in his chair.

Two-thirty a.m. rolled around, and his bed was starting to sound more inviting, or maybe it was just the idea of a pillow. Besides, it looked like Zia really was out for the night and Carter didn't seem to be in immediate danger of dying again, so he just decided to go upstairs and sleep.

*#*#*

Carter woke up with a splitting headache and no clue what time it was.

The time thing wasn't too hard to figure out; his watch told him that it was just after four in the morning. As for the headache, he hoped it would just go away.

Zia was passed out next to him—or rather, halfway on top of him, since it was a small couch. Her head was resting on his shoulder, both of her arms wound around his torso. Her breath tickled his neck a little.

He tried to sit up, but Zia stirred a little, her arms tightening around him and her eyebrows furrowing. Her grip relaxed as her eyes fluttered open, accompanied by a soft sigh.

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Zia stared out the windows. Carter stared at Zia. Finally he said, "Thanks for bringing me back."

She sat up, saying, "Don't make me do it again. I didn't particularly enjoy hitting you."

"No worries, I don't have plans to die again anytime soon," he promised her.

"Not funny, Carter." Her eyes were wet. "Not funny at all. I thought—I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you, okay?"

He reached up and cupped her chin. "I'm here now, Zia. I'm fine. You're not losing me." He sat up and kissed her.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding into his lap. He rested one of his hands on her hip, tracing down her spine with the other.

"Carter," she murmured, breaking free of his grasp, _"no. _I am not going to be responsible for giving you another heart attack."

She had a valid point; his pulse was thudding wildly in his ears. Zia stretched out on the couch again, resting her warm hand over his thudding heart, and as he played with her hair he decided that if he died (again) this very moment, he would be perfectly content.

O-o-O

**For those of you who don't speak French:**

_**C'est des connenes: This is bullshit**_

_**T'es vraiment trop con: You're a fucking idiot**_

_**Jem'en fous: I don't give a fuck**_

**What can I say, Zia was not a Hapi camper.**


End file.
